


my cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme

by pearypie



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: 2CT, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 18:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearypie/pseuds/pearypie
Summary: The cruelty of man has often been acknowledged by Elizabeth but never observed.Her betrothed believes it's time for a bit of a demonstration.[Major spoilers for Chapter 130]





	my cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme

_My rose garden dreams, set on fire by fiends_

_My celluloid scenes are torn at the seams_

_and I fall to pieces, I fall to pieces when I’m with you_

— Lana Del Rey 

 

* * *

 

It was a shining, brilliantly useless dream but it was _hers._ It etched itself across her heart when she was quite young, when her youthful face still beamed with unreserved joy, when everything was lovely just because the sun shone in the sky and Ciel was by her side, grasping her hand and tugging her down the garden path. It was a simple, sweet dream and it belonged to _them,_ to her and Ciel and it was theirs alone. They were selfish that way she supposed, hoarding memories and hopes and dreams until their little hands were full to bursting and they could only stare at each other and laugh. These were the rose colored glasses of youth, she thinks with a touch of melancholy, dabbing perfume to her neck and wrists. They had been so full of happy innocence—or at least Lizzy had.

There was always a cleverness about Ciel—as if he knew the minds of men far beyond his years. As if he could read them as easily as he could an open picture book. The words Ciel spoke were always eloquent, always elegant—and he had such a way about himself! There was no denying that Ciel Phantomhive was his father’s son but in those shadowed moments, when Ciel’s brilliance glittered for the presence of others, Lizzy would try her best to love his quiet shadow.

The younger brother whose lips were numb when others spoke to him, whose hands seem to clutch at the skirts of his mother or the overcoat of his father. He was so painfully sincere with his shyness that Lizzy felt her heart beat for him, measure by measure. Even if Ciel insisted his twin was too ill—too frail or too tired or a combination of the two—Lizzy would sometimes leave her betrothed’s side and read to the younger brother who sometimes had to fight for every breath he took. Oh he loved stories—books of every kind—and Lizzy, whose mind was painted in all the colors of the sunrise and sunset, would color vivid dreams for the young boy who looked so much like Aunt Rachel, who lingered onto Lizzy’s tales long after she left.

They had been foolish then—and arrogant too, Elizabeth realizes as a faceless, nameless maid smooths out her gown. And it’s a beautiful gown—pale pink taffeta, off the shoulder and exposing so much of her décolletage that Lizzy is sure mother would faint at the sight of her. The corset is tighter than it usually is and Elizabeth can feel her breasts straining against the silken fabric, can feel the cool weight of the diamond necklace that hangs too heavily round her neck. It once belonged to Grandmama, Ciel told her some hours ago, it was Claudia Phantomhive's and it was of French design. Ciel had draped this necklace around her throat and his hands were as cool as the stones themselves.

Ciel knows her very well, knows how Elizabeth used to sit on Aunt Rachel or Aunt Ann’s bed and watch how they decorated their bodies with silken gowns, draped velvet finery and glittering jewels around their milk white skin. How their long, long hair would be piled atop their heads in complex hairstyles that made young Lizzy swoon. How beautiful and graceful and _lovely_ they looked when it was all said and done—when Aunt Rachel was Botticelli’s Venus come down from Olympus and Aunt Ann was Helen of Troy herself.

Elizabeth had clung onto her fiancé’s arm later, whispered to him her velvet dreams, how the music must have sounded that much sweeter when one danced in gowns such as those.

He remembered, Lizzy thinks, gazing at herself in the mirror. He remembered her words and wishes when he delivered that box with the House of Worth’s emblem emblazoned in beautiful black silk thread. The gown it contained, the shoes and jewelry and perfume too.

“All for you, my sweet, darling Lizzy.” Ciel purred in her ear only moments ago. He inspected her then, sapphire eyes taking in her form, her flushed cheeks and undone curls. “You look pale. Have you been sleeping well? Or have you simply been missing me for far too long?” He laughed playfully at that—and he must have expected Lizzy to laugh too. She’d always been good at reading Ciel, could differentiate his moods and desires and fleeting flights of fancy.

So she smiled politely because what else was there to do? “Are we having a ball tonight, Ciel?”

“In a way.” He answered jovially, taking Lizzy’s hand and pressing it to his heart. “Ah, I’ve missed your touch.” He held her gaze and as always, it transfixed her like only the pale moon could. The moon, that heavenly silvery orb who rose when the sun fell and reminded her so much of—

 _Traitor!_ Her mind screamed— _traitor, traitor, traitor! You silly, stupid girl—you’ve betrayed him once haven’t you? You’re a knight—the daughter of Alexis Leon Midford—and you have broken your sworn vow._

**_Traitor._ **

“What troubles you?” He’d whispered sweetly, even as Lizzy heard the faint hums of commotion from downstairs. “Look at me,” he had forced Lizzy’s eyes to meet his again and for a brief few moments, she’d been distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of sapphire eyes without an eyepatch. “ _Tell me._ Tell me what troubles you.”

She struggled to speak without screaming. “Would…wouldn’t it be cruel of me to wear this in front of him?”

“Cruel? My dearest Lizzy you are _incapable_ of being cruel.” He laughed and—was that mockery? No, no, her mind corrected, Ciel didn’t _mock._ He observed. “Not you, sweetling—not when you have so much goodness in your heart. The thought of wickedness should not trouble you, it ought to be the least of your worries.” He reassured right as lightening streaked the sky and clashed with the gold of her newly made bedchamber. Ciel leaned in and Lizzy breathed in the scent of rosemary and thyme, saw a flash of white teeth before his lips pressed against hers. “It’s yours now,” he murmured breathlessly against her neck, “ _yours_ and yours alone.” He pressed several more kisses to her lips and jaw and smiled against her skin.

Even now, standing in front of the mirror, Lizzy feels she can see Ciel’s kisses branding her—mocking her, just as the diamond on the fourth finger of her right hand mocks her. It wasn’t the one Aunt Rachel wore—oh no, that had been destroyed so very long ago. This is a new one, Ciel promised, one he fashioned himself because _they_ were a new beginning.

Down below, Lizzy can hear gasps and accusations and the calm, controlled measure of Ciel’s voice. She can hear Tanaka walking down the east wing corridor, the tray of tea and sugar in hand. She knows her faceless, nameless maid will not let her out of this room unless Ciel wills it and she knows that the storm is still brewing, echoing memories in thunderous disapproval as she stands there, taking in her vanity as the whole world screams.

**Author's Note:**

> \- House of Worth: a haute couture fashion house established by Charles Frederick Worth in 1858. He was famous for dressing opera stars and actresses which I felt was fitting for real!Ciel—he is, after all, the star of his own vaudeville. 
> 
> A/N: This song has been stuck in my head for WEEKS and somehow became this. Idk, I’ve just been listening to Lana’s new album on repeat XD


End file.
